


Loosening of the Noose

by Mystery_Name



Series: Planet Doom - Parksborn AU [1]
Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon 2012)
Genre: AU, Complete, Doom took over the world and messed with the timeline, First Meeting, He screwed everything up, M/M, Meet-Cute, Norman's a terrible dad, One-Shot, Parksborn, Parskborn AU, Rebel group, Sort Of, based on Avengers Assemble season 1 episode 15 "Planet Doom", part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystery_Name/pseuds/Mystery_Name
Summary: Harry Osborn is the heir to Oscorp and his father's only child. Finally fed up with being a disappointment, Harry prepares to sign his life over to the company and all the trials that come with him.Fortunately for him, he's interrupted when a notorious terrorist group throws him out a window.
Relationships: Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Harry Osborn
Series: Planet Doom - Parksborn AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028688
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Loosening of the Noose

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was originally supposed to span into a bigger story for the 2020 Parksbang, buuuut I ended up scrapping this idea for a different one. But I found it hidden in my folders and decided, why not? So here you go. This little series will be more of a fun little side-project I can dabble in whenever I need something new to work on. Each addition will be a new one-shot I'll add to the series "Planet Doom - Parksborn AU" which brings me to this:
> 
> This AU is set in the crossover episode between Ultimate Spider-Man and Avengers Assemble, season 1 episode 15 "Planet Doom." I would suggest watching it cause it's fantastic. But for those who haven't and don't want to go watch it, basically Dr. Doom managed to screw with time and completely stopped the orgins to most of the Avengers and took over the entire world.
> 
> In the past, he manages to some of the Avengers enlisted to his side through manipulation and 'being there in the right moment at the right time', like Natasha Romanof, Bruce Banner, and Tony Stark. Other's he stopped from ever being found, like Steve, who is still stuck in his ice-block and us basically just a statue for Doom to look at in his fortress. Whereas as OTHERS, became resistance fighters to Doom's new world, such as Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, and Peter Parker.
> 
> Of course, the whole thing is fixed up by the end of the episode, but that's what fanfiction is for. I'm exploring a budding romance story between resistance fighter Peter Parker, and future Oscorp CEO Harry Osborn, and how they have to keep their relationship a secret from everyone.
> 
> I will be exploring the world and some of the other characters as we go, but the main focus will be on Peter and Harry.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was snowing again.

Harry shouldn't be surprised. It was late December and with Christmas just around the corner, the weather was duty-bound to deliver the city a frigid holiday meant to be spent indoors. It had snowed almost every night this week, so it shouldn't be any different today.

Still, he couldn't help the almost petulant scowl that molded his face, like a child playing with a ball of clay, as he watched the first few flakes of the evening drift from the sky and land on the wet sidewalk. He threw the end of his scarf over his shoulder with a flick of his wrist and stepped on that white snowflake as he stepped out of the limo.

His breaths came out in white wisps that scattered in the wind. When he was younger he used to hold toothpicks or pencils in his mouth and pretend to smoke those old cigars his dad used to, back when he took time off to spend with Harry and his mom. Harry was tempted to put his fingers to his lips, suck in a breath, and puff out an imaginary drag of smoke. Instead, he bitterly wrapped his coat tighter around himself and ducked his head from the icy wind. He could already feel it nipping at his nose and cheeks.

He didn't know what he was doing here. The thought raced through his head like a musician practicing the keys to a piano. _What am I doing here? What am I doing here? What am I doing here?_

It was just a building. Except it wasn't. It was Oscorp Tower - one of the few companies that managed to withstand Doom's Revolution and make it out the other side standing taller and prouder than ever. When Victor Von Doom spread across the globe it was a ruthless battle. Harry remembered the news reports, the unrest throughout his peers. He'd only been 8 at the time, and he didn't understand what it had meant. One day Doom bots had shown up in the United States and suddenly, Doom was everywhere. It was later, when he was old enough to understand, that he realized Doom had overthrown governments and countries almost overnight. Dynasties toppled, democracy tossed to the side, empires crumbled under his metal boot. Not a lot of companies and businesses lasted through the strict regime forced onto them under their new ruling.

But Oscorp did. Despite the struggles and trials of the past decade, Norman Osborn kept his company afloat in the turbulent waters of Doom's settling monarchy. It was his father's biggest pride and joy. A fact Harry had become bitterly resigned to.

Maybe that was why looking up at the tall, sleek building made his stomach gnash its teeth and made him want to throw his arms and stomp his feet in tantrum. You'd think Harry could compete with a _building_ for his father's attention, and yet Norman Osborn wasn't spending the holiday with _Harry_ back in the penthouse. He probably wouldn't be back for the rest of the night.

Which brought Harry here, standing on the top of the stairs leading up and gathering the nerve to go inside. In his coat, the gift pressed against his belly felt like a hole slowly eating into him. He wrapped his arms over his stomach to keep it in place, and could hear the soft crinkling of the paper it was wrapped in.

 _What am I doing here?_ The musician was playing again. _What am I doing here? What's the point?_

If his father wanted to spend time with him, he'd be at home, sitting in his red leather chair near the tree the servants had decorated, drinking expensive eggnog and gin, and watching any of the old Christmas movies that were still allowed by the new government.

Harry _knew_ he was diluting himself. He was a rabbit fastening a trap he planned on walking into. He had the bad habit of setting himself up for disappointment, like a child putting their hand to a hot stove, over and over again, and each time being surprised when he got burned. Attempting to bring anything remotely cheerful into this damn building was going to result in a tongue lashing in front of all his father's precious board members.

But that's the thing, wasn't it. This gift burning a hole into his body wasn't a cheerful one. It was a handcuff Harry was slapping on his own wrists. A noose he was fastening around his neck. It was the culmination of his dreadful future neatly packed inside a gold package to be handed to the man that had forgotten Harry's birthday 5 years in a row.

But despite being the dumb rabbit he was, and the trap he was knitting before his very own eyes, he had that annoying niggling worm of hope burrowed so deeply into his heart it had become something of a parasite. Hoping, praying, that maybe (just maybe), this time it will be different.

Still, he signaled for the driver to stay put. If things went bad, he was going to want a quick escape.

Exhaling another round of fake smoke, he pretended real nicotine was flooding his system, giving him artificial courage. Harry pressed the gift more tightly to himself and climbed the rest of the way up the steep. The doors slid open for him automatically, with nary a whisper from either side. He ignored the tall, bulky shapes of the enforcer robots that stood guard at the entrance - each bearing the bright green symbol of Doom - and flashed his ID to the woman behind the desk to buzz him through another set of doors.

From there, he hopped in the elevator, pressed his thumb against the sensor pad on the inside, and pushed the button that would take him to the top floor, his father's office. The swooping of elevation put butterflies in his stomach. There used to be monotonous songs that played during the ride up, but Norman decided there was no point in wasting resources on it. Harry wished there was something to fill the silence.

Witch each second that ticked by, Harry clutched the gift closer. With each new number that appeared above the door, the notion that this was a good idea was broken off piece by piece and left behind on each floor. Maybe he should just go back. Take the elevator back down as soon as he reaches the top, go home, break into his father's liquor cabinet, and spend the rest of the evening sipping scotch and sulking in his room. Maybe go to one of the bars still open and find someone he can spend the rest of the night with. Paid or not, at least he wouldn't be alone.

But as the elevator slowed and the doors slid open, his feet moved on their own accord and walked him to his father's office. Each traitorous step added a new level of dread that tugged on his shoulders and made him want to disappear into his coat.

He was supposed to schedule an appointment if he wanted to talk to his dad while in the office, so Harry's unplanned visit probably wouldn't be appreciated right now. The only reason he'd managed to get this far was because it was the holidays, and people were eager to go home. Besides, it's not like he was a stranger here. As the future CEO of Oscorp, most of the staff knew his face at the very least.

Still, no matter his intention, Harry was certain he was going to get an ear-full for pulling a stunt like this. But sitting at home, staring at his mother's portrait and the old holiday photos she'd kept in neat folders, had given him a dose of courage that glimmered feebly, even now.

"I'm already here," Harry muttered under his breath, "Might as well see what happens."

He may as well get it over with. If his father was working late, it meant he was frustrated over some bundle in the company or mulling over something important. He probably needed to let off steam, anyway.

 _Yelling at me might be the break he needed_ , Harry thought glumly.

The door to his father's office is a smooth, dark wood with the gold nameplate "Norman Osborn, CEO" fixed neatly, at perfect eye level to Harry. He could see his own furrowed eyebrows in the shiny reflection, and swallowed, rapping his knuckles against the door.

The security system had to scan him, notifying Norman of his presence, but the defining moment would be whether or not Norman actually opened the door. Harry waited with bated breath.

That faint glimmer turned into a spangle of hope when the knob clicked and twisted in his grip. Maybe Harry was wrong. Maybe his dad wasn't in a bad mood, after all.

All hope for that withered into dead husks the moment he met his father's eyes from across the room.

Norman Osborn sat at his desk, the same dark wood of his door, with so much space it looked almost empty. He looked over the top of the papers he had in hand, mouth turning down at the sight of Harry. His eyes were a cold, steely blue that made the brittle wind outside feel like a warm summer breeze.

Harry closed the door behind him. Now within proximity of that calculating stare, he found that his courage had fled from the soles of his feet and melted into the carpet, never to be seen until the next time he thought _'hey, maybe it will be different this time._ ' Nervously, Harry straightened his scarf and tried to fix his still neatly styled hair. A nervous habit more than anything, but it made his father's frown deepen. Any closer and the tips might reach his chin.

"Harry," he said, neither sharp nor angry. That was almost worse. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm, uh," Harry swallowed, "I'm-...I'm just..." "

Norman sighed. That exasperated, _tired_ , sigh. As if just being around Harry sapped his energy, and it made Harry want to climb into his coat and cease to exist. He knew this was a bad idea. Why didn't he ever listen to himself? Why was it so hard to learn the same lesson over and over again?

You'd think, after doing this so many times it would get easier. But it doesn't, it makes Harry's stomach tighten in nausea and anxiety prickle under his skin like finely tuned needles. It feels like missing a step, and falling. Flailing. Harry forced himself to take a deep breath, a moment to steel his nerves, and stuttered out.

"I - uh, I noticed that you weren't at home yet, so I - I thought I'd come visit you here. It's Christmas Eve and you said you'd be home in time for-"

"Why didn't you schedule an appointment?" Norman asked, eyes going back down to his papers.

_I wanted to surprise you._

"I'm...sorry, I forgot to call it in on my way over."

"Well, I'm very busy, Harry. I can't come home right now, and I won't be able to for the rest of the night."

Silence followed and Harry knew this was his cue to leave. He _should_ leave. Norman was letting him off easy, so he should take this opportunity to just go home and spend the rest of his night getting drunk and pretending that's how he wanted to spend Christmas Eve.

But his fingers dug into the flashy gold-colored wrapping paper and it crinkled the delicate material. He'd wrapped it in gold because that's what his father was all about. Wealth and power, flashy and bright. Something everyone else craved. Harry figured, out of all the wrapping paper to pick from, Norman would like this one the most.

He'd spent so much time working on it too. Not just wrapping it, although that had been harder than he expected. All the gifts he bought and received were either pre-wrapped or one of the servants wrapped it for him. The present itself had taken weeks to put together - a business portfolio, complete with all the assets, financial records, stocks, bonds, and cash equivalents he was going to inherit from his father, and an Oscorp resume filled out with all Harry's details. To anyone else, it was ridiculous giving _this_ to Norman as a present. He didn't need to apply for it, the job would be handed to him on a gold-platter. _If only it were that easy_. But his father would know what it meant.

It'd mean that Harry was finally ready to start learning how to run the company. This was his promise, his noose, that he was going to do everything Norman asked of him to keep Oscorp afloat. It was his pledge to bring pride to the Osborn name, stamped in blood. This was him signing the rest of his life away to the family business, despite the dread that weighed heavy on his shoulders and the sour taste it left on his tongue.

This was everything his father could want from him, and Harry was not about to let his sacrifice to the Oscorp pire be diminished because his father couldn't look at him for more than 5 minutes. Maybe Harry was a disappointment, but at least Norman would know that he was a disappointment willing to learn.

Teeth gritted, Harry didn't turn to the door. He strode up to his father's desk, determination driving his every move. Norman hadn't seemed to notice that Harry didn't leave until Harry was standing directly in front of him.

When Norman looked up, there was the briefest, smallest glint of surprise, nothing but a faint twitch of his lips, as he set his papers down slowly. Norman's eyes were like ice picks chipping away at Harry's courage, so before he lost his nerve, or Norman had the opportunity to get a word in edgewise, Harry slapped the package in front of Norman. He hadn't bothered to wrap it in a box, so the shape was wrinkled and strange. He tried not to wince.

"This is for you," Harry said, barely able to keep his voice from wavering. "I was planning on giving it to you tonight, at home, but seeing how you won't be there..."

Norman's expression didn't falter for a second. Cold, neutral; judgment hidden behind ice. With smooth, precise movements, because Norman was nothing if not efficient in everything he did, he picked up the gift. For a single harrowing moment, it looked as though he was going to put it to the side, to be opened later. Harry didn't know what he would do then. But Norman sighed, set down his pen, and pulled the gift closer.

Harry held his breath as the gold wrapping was stripped away, and Norman's hands slowed. He gave Harry the barest glance before he opened the folder and examined its contents. Harry waited, heart beating with the nervous energy of a hummingbird in flight. His fingers twisted into his coat, wishing to fiddle with his scarf, to smooth down his hair, to search for any imperfections on his person He forced himself to keep still. To wait. It was hard to watch Norman's expressionless face as he scanned the papers.

But Harry watched, searching desperately for any signs of...what? What was he looking for? Acceptance? Pride? Approval? Any of the three would work.

What Norman's eyes did was soften. The ice melting, if just for a moment. Harry couldn't decipher what it meant.

"Harry," Norman started, but that was all he got out before the wall exploded.

Harry heard the **BOOM** and felt the force throwing him forward, slamming him into the large panes of darkened glass that spanned the view of the city beyond. His head hit the windows and he wasn't sure if the crack that followed was from his head or the glass. When he opened his eyes, he was on the ground.

Smoke filled the room in a gray haze and debris littered the once orderly office. Harry's movements were shaky and slow as he pulled himself to his feet. His head swam. "Dad-" he tried to say, but his mouth tasted of smoke and dust, and he coughed instead.

His ears were ringing as he stumbled to his feet. The back of his head smarted with pain. Adrenaline was already kicking in but he was at a loss of what to do. His brain was still trying to catch up with the rest of him, but it was lagging like an outdated computer. Escaping was a good idea. Yeah, they needed to get out of here. Harry looked for his father in the wreckage.

Norman was slumped against the window not far from him. The glass was made of highly enforced nanotechnology, some of the toughest on the market, but thin cracks had appeared in its smooth surface. The area Harry had hit was also fractured, but not broken, thank goodness. If it had been any weaker they would've been blasted right through.

"Dad," he tried again, this time with a little more success. At least, he hoped so. He couldn't hear quite right and it sounded muffled in his ears. He tugged on the messied sleeve of his father's suit, "Come - _cough -_ come on. We've got to get out of here."

Norman groaned, face pinching, and mumbled something, but it was lost to Harry. Whatever it was probably wasn't important right now, so he tugged on Norman's armcoat again and tried hauling him to his feet.

So focused on getting himself and his father to safety, Harry didn't notice that someone was behind him until he bumped into something solid. He looked up to a pair of white-lensed goggles and grey mask just as a particularly firm hand grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him across the room, the other curled into the back of Norman's suit and dragged him after them.

Stunned, Harry stumbled after him, eyes roving wildly over this oddly dressed stranger. The fabric of their black mask moved up and down so Harry assumed he was talking, but it sounded far away. Over the man's shoulder, someone else appeared. They were taller, a little more well built, with a bandana over their face, purple-tinted glasses hiding their eyes, and a head of blonde scruffy hair. This man had something in his hand and was gesturing wildly to the guy manhandling Harry.

Harry looked between the two and realization dawned on him. Frantically, he yanked himself from the man's grip and managed to wriggle out, stumbling away.

Everything happened too fast. Suddenly panicked, the masked man dropped Norman with an unceremonious _thud_ and was reaching out for Harry just as the blonde one let go of the detonator. Harry realized what was happening too late.

The resulting explosion wasn't necessarily an _explosion_. More of a concentrated shockwave. Harry probably wouldn't have even gotten hurt if he wasn't directly in its line of fire. But he was, and it slammed into him. The shockwave was meant for the window, and it shattered on impact. All at once, Harry was engulfed in a rush of cold air that greedily grabbed the breath from his lungs.

He saw the two terrorists rushing forward, saw his dad slumped against the wall, eyes open and stunned, then Harry was falling.

Open air rushed past him with such brutal intent he couldn't keep his eyes open, tears leaked from the corners. His stomach dropped with the sensation of falling and he wasn't sure if he was screaming or not, but it felt like he was.

He was going to die. He was going to hit the pavement and that would be it. A gruesome, bloody death for a CEO-in -training; seemed almost fitting. He should've just stayed home after all.

Then something slammed into him and they both hit the side of the building. Well, the body that wrapped around him hit the building, Harry hit into _him_. They bounced off it and hit into it again, and Harry clung to his rescuer like a koala finding a sturdy branch. him. The body curled around him, an arm clamped over Harry's chest with their legs intertwined. Harry was gasping in breaths, but he might've still been screaming.

For a long moment they simply dangled there, pressed so tightly together Harry could feel the heavy breaths expanding from the man's chest and faintly hear every strained grunt. It took Harry a moment to realize the guy was saying something, but it was muffled and meaningless.

Once they'd both caught their breath, the guy adjusted himself so his feet were planted on the side of the building, and encouraged Harry to put most of his weight on his front so Harry was almost laying on top of him. Then he started to climb.

It was freezing outside, and being so high up, Harry could feel every bitter wind stabbing his exposed skin. At first, he kept his eyes firmly shut. But when he opened them, he couldn't keep them closed. Snowflakes swirled and danced around them, elegant in their fall and beautiful in their masses, glowing from the lights of the city. White puffs of breath filtered through the grey mask of the terrorist, and past those white lenses, Harry spotted a long, thick wire stretching from the guy's wrist, all the way up to the shattered window of the office. The mechanism built into the device was recoiling the wire and pulling them up to safety.

But his arm was trembling under the exertion, despite planting his feet onto the building exterior to keep them steady, and he curled his arms tighter around Harry as if determined to keep him there. Harry clung to him just as much, terrified at the prospect of falling again.

After long last, they made it to the window. The blonde man was waiting, reaching for his partner's hand, and hauling them both inside. Norman was there too, hovering by the broken glass so he could grab Harry and drag him away from the window and across the room.

Norman's left ear was bleeding, so Harry assumed he wasn't good on the hearing side of things either. It was hard to tell who Norman's anger was directed towards; Harry for getting blasted out a window, or the two terrorists who made it happen. Norman was none too gentle in his man-handling, and Harry was worried that he would be at the end of his dad's wrath, but then he turned back to the other two, face nearly purple with rage. No doubt he'd get into a screaming match with a pair of criminals, partially deaf or not.

The masked one, the one who'd saved Harry, was holding his arm tightly to his chest and looked to be getting a harsh reprimand from his partner. His head was ducked and his shoulders scrunched together like a child receiving a scolding. Saving Harry from falling to his death probably hadn't been part of the plan.

In the distance, black dots appeared in the sky. Doom Bots honing in on Oscorp Tower. And no sooner did they appear, did someone new fly into the picture.

Literally, _fly_ into the picture.

His arms were bare, despite the cold, but from the back of his grungy suit were a pair of tacked together mechanical wings that kept him aloft. The blonde-haired showed the newcomer the prize they came to retrieve - a flashdrive, Harry recognized - before leaping out of the building and catching the newcomer's arm. They flew away.

The masked one spared a glance at Harry, but pushed a button from his wrist device. Three long, thin metal barbs grew from the mechanism fastened to his back, and for the second time that night, he jumped out of the window. Instead of falling, the barbs caught the wall, jabbing their pointed tips into the thick material, and together they climbed up the building.

And just like that, they were gone.

Harry stared out the window, at the thickening snow and powerful winds, and didn't realize he was shaking until he wrapped his arms over his stomach. The Doombots didn't stop to check on the occupants of the building but flew over Oscorp in pursuit of their attackers. Harry barely noticed the swarm of guards that flooded the room soon after, though quite a few of them looked ragged and beat up.

With the action over, the adrenaline was fading and making him shake even _more_ \- from the cold or shock, he couldn't be sure. His father passed him off to a medic and Harry obediently sat down, numbly mimicking that he couldn't hear right.

His body ached, his ears were ringing, and his head pulsed with a splitting pain, but he knew however bad it was today, it was going to be worse tomorrow. Still, he couldn't bring himself to pay attention. His eyes kept drifting back to the taped off window.

A flash of gold caught his eyes and he noticed that the folder was on the floor, near the blast radius. His portfolio was scattered in pieces, and when a particularly strong gust of wind billowed inside, they were sucked out into the open air. He watched them flip and jerk and fly away on strings. The trap he'd worked so hard to build around himself, gone. The handcuffs were falling away. The noose loosening. He could breathe again.

It was horrible what happened. He was injured, his father was injured, and those terrorists (one's he'd seen only on the news until now) had stolen a flashdrive of Oscorp secrets. He should not feel grateful to these people. It was because of them he'd almost been killed.

But, as Harry closed his eyes and leaned back, holding the shock blanket around his shoulders, the words were a whisper in his mind.

 _Thank you_.

**Author's Note:**

> Annnd done! I know their meeting was quick and they didn't even exchange names, but in due time. They'll meet again, don't worry. Just setting up the foundations.
> 
> Future installments will come sporadically as this is just a fun side-project for me to dabble in.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed!


End file.
